


blue boy, worried about the world's eyes

by vanishingstars



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Detective Connor, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Painter Markus, Power Mom Kara, Slow Burn, jericho is a cafe, this is barely proofread so im sorry for mistakes :(
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-05-26 00:12:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14988551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanishingstars/pseuds/vanishingstars
Summary: Connor Anderson's smile is gentle, boyish; like baby blue. The many freckles and moles dust his shoulders, his nose, his chest- somewhat resembling stars in the inky night. He walks with a sway, a steadiness that rivals the drift of a limpid, blue river. Everything about Connor Anderson isblue.Except his left eye. His left eye is a subtle green, stark against porcelain skin.In which everyone has two different eye colours, one colour belonging to their soulmate and the other being their own. They switch back after you first kiss your soulmate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have fallen SO MADLY IN LOVE with this game and its characters and i just had to immediately write something for this fandom
> 
> work title is from blue boy by mac demarco!
> 
> ps: androids don't exist (yet) and everyone here is human! just thought i'd clear that up for anyone who's confused

Connor stood at his desk and blinked harshly, attempting to rid the sleep from his eyes. He's been sluggish and slow nearly the entire morning; the abandoned, lukewarm coffee on his cluttered desk serving as a reminder of just how tired he was-  _is._

He scowls, remembering the dozens of reports piled up high on his desk back at home. Connor gazes down, catching sight of even more disorganized files and, if possible, his frown deepens.

A slight throb thrums at the back of his head and Connor squirms. _Fuuuuck_.

He had a tendency to overwork himself. Kara, his best friend, was always trying to get Connor to relax a bit, find comfort in things other than his work. But his work was what kept him grounded- he loved the thrill of arriving at a crime scene, analysing clues, the rush he got whenever he gets something right and the _chases._ He _loved_ the chases. It also helped that his partner was his own adoptive father, Lieutenant Anderson.

_"Connor!"_

Speak of the devil.

Whipping his head to face the older man, Connor's eyes fluttered blearily. Hank strides over to him, mild annoyance obvious on his face. He softens slightly at the sight of the tired Connor, glower relaxing. "You okay, son?" The frown returns. "You look like shit."

"I'm fine, just a bit tired," Connor shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Hank raises an eyebrow, lips pursed. "I really am alright."

"You didn't stay up right? Bad enough that mostly everyone here _sucks_ , wouldn't want one of our best youth to be sluggish on the job." The scruffy man crosses his arms defensively, awaiting Connor's answer. 

The shorter boy's eyes widened, cheeks flushed. "Best?" Connor quipped, grinning meekly. Hank scoffed, shoving Connor's shoulders. He chuckles heartily, " _One of._ But don't let that dishearten you, and don't avoid my question, son."

Connor huffs, pouting exaggeratedly. "I might have stayed up later than desired." Hank hums skeptically. The dark haired boy sighs, in defeat. "I got two hours of sleep last night." 

As expected, Connor got  _another_ shove, albeit more exasperated than playful.

"Boy, you've got eyebags equal to the ass crack of Lucifer himself." Connor pouts, noticing Hank's eyes twinkle. "That is a crude description and I'd prefer to have went about my day without having heard it, Hank."

The older man looks away- smugly- and Connor catches himself thinking about Hank's eyes. They were both the same colour, a deep blue. He knew Hank never did have a soulmate, effectively making the older man an outcast amongst all the other men and women with mismatched eyes. And if they didn't have two different coloured eyes, then they had a radiating smile on their face and someone in their arms.

Hank turns back to Connor, the smile on his face content. "Come on, Con. We've got another fuckin' case."

* * *

> _Kara || sent at 1.13 pm_
> 
> _connnnnnor_
> 
>  
> 
> _To: Kara || sent at 1.20 pm_
> 
> _Yes?_
> 
>  
> 
> _Kara || sent at 1.21 pm_
> 
> _come over!!_
> 
>  
> 
> _To: Kara || sent at 1.21 pm_
> 
> _I've got a case Kara_
> 
>  
> 
> _Kara || sent at 1.23 pm_
> 
> _no you don't, ur shifts over and u only got another one at 3_
> 
>  
> 
> _Kara || sent at 1.23 pm_
> 
> _i have ur schedule doofus_
> 
>  
> 
> _To: Kara || sent at 1.24 pm_
> 
> _Aaaaaaa_
> 
>  
> 
> _To: Kara || sent at 1.24 pm_
> 
> _You got me. I'm coming over_
> 
>  
> 
> _Kara || sent at 1.25 pm_
> 
> _YESSSSS_
> 
>  
> 
> _Kara || sent at 1.26 pm_
> 
> _hurry! luthers making cookies_
> 
>  
> 
> _To: Kara || seen at 1.27 pm_
> 
> _Only coming for the cookies <3_

* * *

The door swings open before Connor could knock and suddenly he's being squeezed- _strangled_ by a tiny little girl. 

" _Oof_. Alice!" He laughs breezily, head thrown back as Alice's grip only grew tighter. "Hi, Connor," She peers up at him with wide eyes, her right iris a startling grey and the other a deep brown. Alice giggles, and pulls herself away from Connor's torso. "Luther made cookies." Her smile is gleaming and her eyes twinkle.

Luther was Kara's soulmate. They met while Kara was seeking help and shelter for Alice, which is a long story in itself. Connor tucks away the thought for another day and hums to himself, letting Alice tug him inside.

"Connor! You came!" Kara called out, blundering over to them while wiping dough-stained fingers over her apron. Luther's smiling eyes peeked out from underneath the counter. "Hello Connor. Please do not mind me; Kara insisted on me sitting here- she likes feeling tall."

The rest of Luther's face wasn't visible but Connor could tell he was grinning from the creases near his eyes. Kara smiled softly, sticking her tongue out at her lover- Luther winking playfully back at her.  _Adorable,_ Connor mused.

"Gross," Alice giggled, mock disgust lacing her voice. "Connor, save me!" She threw her arms back around his waist, yelping when Kara softly yanked her back. "Not so fast, Alice." Connor watched the exchange, eyes dancing and his smile easy.

"I specifically remember being promised cookies." He jested, an eyebrow raised in expectation. " _Hmm._  No cookies for you," Kara muses. Connor frowned, his nose scrunching up. "That is an undesirable outcome. Kara, _oh_ , great Kara, may I please have a cookie?" A smile snakes its way onto his face, indulgent.

"I'll consider it," Kara teased, undoing her apron and putting it away. She kneels down to face Alice, dainty fingers caressing her cheek. Kara leans her forehead adoringly against Alice's, humming contentedly. Luther stands from behind the counter and kneels with them, bringing his arms around the girls in an affectionate squeeze. Connor stood awkwardly, fidgeting with his fingers. He itched for his coin.

Luther looks up at Connor from their spot on the floor, lips pulled up in a dearly smile. He reaches a hand outward and tugs Connor into their little pile, said boy tumbling into the hug.

They stay there for awhile, finding comfort in each other. The cookies laid forgotten, growing cold, on the counter.

* * *

> _To: Kara || sent at 2.47 pm_
> 
> _Thanks for the cookies and the company, Kara_
> 
>  
> 
> _To: Kara || sent at 2.47 pm_
> 
> _Tell Luther that the offer to marry me is still out there :D_
> 
>  
> 
> _Kara || sent at 2.50 pm_
> 
> _HAHAHAHA_
> 
>  
> 
> _Kara || sent at 2.51 pm_
> 
> _luther says he loves you, alice says she misses u already <33_
> 
>  
> 
> _To: Kara || sent at 2.55 pm_
> 
> _Aww <3 what about you?_
> 
>  
> 
> _Kara || seen at 2.56 pm_
> 
> _love u too blue boy, get to ur detective-ing. tell hank hi for me mmkay_

* * *

Connor catches sight of himself in the DPD bathroom mirror.

He took in his features, tight-lipped. He guessed he could consider himself attractive, in a way. A strong jaw and high cheekbones, his lips thin and pale pink. He parts them in observation. His cheeks were rosy near constantly and there were a fine splay of freckles and moles dusting his face.

He lets himself grin broadly at the mirror, eyes creasing at the corners. Connor sighed loudly, the sound ringing and laid his forehead against the reflection. It was embarassing seeing himself smile like that.

Staring back into the looking glass, Connor drew his attention to his eyes. His right eye was nothing much, a simple brown. Not the kind of brown that gleamed golden in the sun or the kind of brown where specks of green lurked from within. Just plain, old _brown_. 

But his left eye..

His left eye was beautiful. Jaded green with tiny specks of yellow dancing within his iris. Long lashes framed his eyes daintily, inky black against pale, freckled skin. 

Connor so desperately wished that the green eyes belonged to him. But knowing how the universe worked, it most likely belonged to his soulmate. Which he was completely fine with, taking comfort in knowing that his soulmate had gorgeous eyes and hopefully an even more gorgeous nature.

"Connor! You done in there?" He hears Hank holler from outside, signifying the start of their shift. 

"I'm coming!"

* * *

"What's the case, Chris?" Hank uttered, following the younger officer towards the crime scene. Connor trailed slowly behind them, blue and red lights flickering, dancing against the trio.

Chris huffs, fiddling with the gun on his belt. "Another break in, Lieutenant. This time it's that acclaimed painter, Carl Manfred." He squinted at the huge mansion overlooking them.

"Reports say that him and his son were just arriving home from a party when they discovered that the studio lights were on." Chris rubbed his hands together, looking back at the duo. "The son was wounded, badly. The intruder got away but he wasn't very good about hiding his tracks so we've got a lead."

Connor takes in the mansion, noting the blood trail leading into the bushes and, possibly, further off. Hank whistles at the mansion, impressed.

"Carl's been rushed to the hospital, apparently he collapsed during the confrontation. Poor guy," Chris continues, waving the both of them to the ambulance parked a few feet away from them. "First line of business should be talking to the son, I'll leave it to the both of you to get to the action. I'll be around here if you need me." He smiled warmly at the duo before stalking off.

Hank turned back to Connor, slowly. "Alright, kid. You go talk to the son, I'll search the studio." The older man nodded towards the manor. "Join me when you're done," Hank made to walk away, only stopping at the sound of Connor calling him back.

"What?" He tutted, mildly annoyed. Connor frowned. "Why do I have to talk to the son?"

At this, a tiny smile loomed on Hank's face. "You're better with people than I am, kid." He simply said, walking off. 

Connor sighs, kicking a nearby pebble into the bushes. He shuffles over to the ambulance; cops and reporters alike moving out of his way, whispers of  _the youngest detective on the force_ following him around like a shadow. He didn't know if all this attention were good or bad, squaring his shoulders and raising his chin up anyway. Nodding at the cops stationed outside the ambulance, he spots Gavin sneering at him from the corner of his eye.  _Asshole_.

Bracing himself, Connor clambers inside the ambulance and is met with the sight of the most gorgeous man in the world.

The man is battered, bruised and bloody but that doesn't deter Connor from the actual _beauty_ lying on the stretcher, poorly done bandages wrapped around his forehead and left arm. He's got sweat slicked skin the colour of light bronze and his arms are big and strong and Connor can't help but think about what else belonging to this man could be big and strong and  _ge_ _t your mind out of the gutter, Connor!_

He stands there gaping like a fish out of water and that is the exact moment when this man decides to open his eyes.

Connor sees two _completely_ different colours, a bright blue and dark brown.

No jaded green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow connor


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was soo much fun to write, and i wanted to update again soo
> 
> thank you guys SO MUCH for the support. it all means the world to me, enjoy!! <33

He snaps out of his reverie when the man laughs. 

 _Not really a laugh_ , Connor pondered, wide eyed. It was more like an amused exhale, the man's eyes were crinkled with this certain charm and his lips were pulled up in a tiny smirk. 

"Uh," Connor started and immediately wished he could take it back. _Uh?_

The man's smirk grew wider. " _Uh._ "

Connor felt his face flush, gulping. "My name is Connor," He continues, tentatively stepping closer to the stretcher. "I'm the detective sent by the department." _The youngest detective on the force._

He stood straighter, surer. "I'm here to ask you some questions, Mr Manfred."

The Adonis on the stretcher sighed, all amusement from earlier gone. He smiled hesitantly up at Connor, some semblance of a twinkle still in his eyes. "God, where do I start?" He says it mainly for his own sake, rubbing his face. 

"Why not we start with your name?" Connor supplied, head tilted slightly to the side. The man gazes up at him, catching the detective's eye. "Markus. Is my name. My name is Markus. Manfred. Shit,  _Markus_ " He stumbles over his words, crimson flushing his cheeks. Connor smiles, entranced. "Hello, Markus." He teases and Markus grins bashfully.

"Now, _Markus_ ," Connor makes sure to drawl out his name, effectively capturing the man's attention. "How did you and your father find the intruder?" Markus's brow furrowed in concentration, he sits himself up on the stretcher. "We were arriving back from a party. A cocktail party." Connor hesitantly sat himself closer to Markus, listening.

"Carl _hated_ cocktail parties," The Adonis frowned, turning back to the detective. "He's okay, right?" Markus's voice was small, scared and Connor felt his heart stutter. "To the extent of my knowledge, Carl is fine."

The other man relaxes visibly. "Good. That's.. good." He takes a shuddering breath. "We got back from that party. Carl asked me to pour him a glass and I protested, his health has been steadily declining these past few months. I was just about to wheel him into the bathroom when suddenly we-" 

He cuts himself off, flinching suddenly. Markus's hand flies towards his forehead and Connor notes that the blood is fresh. The detective reaches out instinctively, placing a gentle hand on the painters shoulder. Their eyes meet and Connor takes in the sight. 

Markus's eyes were gorgeous. Long, brown eyelashes shaped downturned eyes- holding a fierceness Connor found difficult to look away from. They held stories, they held memories. Connor blinked owlishly, suddenly realising that he and Markus were much, _much_ closer than before.

He darts away from Markus, as if burnt. "I'm sorry, are you alright?" The man in question simply smiles, his gaze never leaving Connor. "Could be better." He chuckles lightly, nose scrunching up in mild pain. Connor's eyes flew towards the bandages, making to stand up. "I should call for help, those certainly don't look sterilized."

Markus flinched. "No, it's fine. Let me answer your questions first," He grabs Connor's arm, eyes pleading yet holding a dark intensity. "Let me help you find him." Connor bit his lip, sitting back down with Markus. He nodded. 

"Okay. I was about to take Carl to the bathroom, suddenly there was this loud noise from the studio and the lights were switched on. I went to check it out alone. Carl was calling me back, asking me to wheel him along but.." He trails off. Something clicks in Connor's head, piecing Chris's comments and the blood trail outside the mansion together.

"I was scared. I was thinking all these _things.."_ A pause. "Nevermind. I called the police first, then I went into the studio. Carl was still in the living room, but he was wheeling himself behind me. We didn't see him, his face was hidden." Markus's tone was sullen, grim. Connor frowned. "Did the offender say anything?" 

Markus sighed, eyes falling shut. "Yes. He was _pissed_. I couldn't decipher much, but he was hysterical. He had this bag, completely stuffed with Carl's paintings, maybe some of mine." His eyes flutter open, catching Connor's stare. "I was angry, I wanted him out of the studio." He huffed, finally looking away from the young detective.

"I thought that we could've dealt with it peacefully, but he got violent. I tried to reason with him, I did! Next thing I know, Carl's on the ground. I _needed_ to get to him." He heaves a breath. "I shouldn't have looked away. He striked me, on the head. Then he's gone." Markus grimaces, looking down at himself. "Hurts like hell," He chuckled bitterly. _Shit_.

Connor hurriedly stands, chewing at his bottom lip. "Thank you, Markus. I'll have someone more capable to patch you up. I think we have a lead," He makes to exit the ambulance, pausing suddenly. 

"Markus," Connor hesitates, turning to see the other man staring expectantly back at him. "Will I see you again?" 

He hears the other man laugh, _that amused exhale again_. Connor feels his cheeks flush pink.

"Yeah, I hope so."

Connor couldn't stop the goofy grin, practically manifesting itself on his face.

He steps out of the ambulance, the sudden daylight nearly blinding him. Turning back to close the doors, he meets Markus's gaze. "Connor, wait!"

He halts, looking back at him. "Please. Catch him." Connor sees that intensity in his eyes, dancing. _Unyielding_.

A smirk snakes its way across his face, cocky, cool, confident.

"I always accomplish my mission, _Markus_."

* * *

> **Case Number : 684842971**
> 
> **Date: 12 November 2018**
> 
> **Reporting Officer/s: Lt. Hank Anderson, Det. Connor Anderson**
> 
> **Prepared by: Det. Connor Anderson**
> 
> **Incident Type: Break in**
> 
> **Address of Occurrence: 8941 Lafayette Avenue, Detroit, Michigan, USA**
> 
> **Persons Involved:**
> 
>   * ****Carl Manfred: Painter. Male. 75. White.****
>   * **Markus Manfred: Painter. Male. 23. Mixed race.**
> 

> 
> **Offender:**
> 
>   * **Leo Manfred: Unemployed. Male. 22. White. History of Drug Abuse.**
> 

> 
> **Evidence:**
> 
>   * **Blood trail found outside mansion**
>   * **CCTV footage found outside studio**
> 

> 
> **Weapon/Objects used: None**
> 
> **On November 12, 2018, at roughly 14:32, Leo Manfred, son of Carl Manfred, broke into the latters house and attempted to steal various artworks.**
> 
> **The persons involved claimed that Manfred was hysterical. During the confrontation, Carl Manfred collapsed from his wheelchair and his other son, Markus Manfred, was overcome by the perpetrator.**
> 
> **Leo Manfred managed to sneak away an assortment of priceless paintings, some having been damaged in the process. He was found by Det. Anderson at approximately 15:47. Manfred was hiding in the bushes- not far from the scene of crime.**
> 
> **Manfred has been arrested and will now await trial.**

* * *

"Good job today, kid." Hank praised, leaning heavily against his desk chair. He watched Connor nip at the end of his pen, fingers tapping against his keyboard. "Thank you, lieutenant." Connor said, grinning at the elder man from across their adjoined desks.

Hank swivelled in his chair, spinning slowly. " _So_ ," He drawled, expectant. "So?" Connor mimicked, peeking from behind his monitor to stare questionably at the other man. "Yeah. So." Hank huffed, amused at his adoptive son's antics.

"Hank, I don't understand. What is this game you're playing?" Connor deadpanned, mouth set in a thin line. The other man simply huffed, ignoring Connor's quip. " _Markus Manfred._ How was he?" 

At the mere mention of Markus, Connor froze, feeling the crimson begining to creep up his cheeks. _Ah, shit._

Connor tilted his head, the way he did when he wanted to get his way. "Why do you ask, Hank?" He smiled sincerely, just to bring it all home.

Hank wasn't fooled. 

"You're a lil' shit sometimes, Connor. You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about." The disheveled man pointed an accusing finger at the younger boy. " _Markus Manfred._  How was he?" Hank repeated, dragging the words out painfully.

Defeated, Connor pushed himself away from the desk, face utterly flushed red. "Markus.. was not difficult." Hank raised an eyebrow, the beginnings of a smug grin appearing. "He was easy to talk to, and extremely eloquent. It was a pleasure, getting to speak with him." Connor paused. "Even if it weren't as long as I'd hope. Considering the circumstances, it's understandable." 

Hank let out a low whistle. " _Extremely eloquent?_ " He whispered to himself, spinning away from Connor.

"H-hey! Hank, I heard that!"

* * *

> _Hanks kid || sent at 5.22 pm_
> 
> _Chris_
> 
>  
> 
> _Hanks kid || sent at 5.22 pm_
> 
> _Chris ohhhhmyGod_
> 
>  
> 
> _Hanks kid || sent at 5.22 pm_
> 
> _Chris please_
> 
>  
> 
> _Hanks kid || sent at 5.23 pm_
> 
> _I'm going to cry and then i'm going to blame it on you chrid answer me_
> 
> _Hanks kid || sent at 5.23 pm_
> 
> _Officer Chris Miller this is URGENT._
> 
>  
> 
> _To: Hanks kid || sent at 5.25 pm_
> 
> _shit hi Connor! whats up??_
> 
>  
> 
> _Hanks kid || sent at 5.25 pm_
> 
> _You know exactly whats up you big frick frack_
> 
>  
> 
> _To: Hanks kid || sent at 5.26 pm_
> 
> _What r you talking about??? :(_
> 
>  
> 
> _Hanks kid || sent at 5.27 pm_
> 
> _Did you_
> 
>  
> 
> _Hanks kid || sent at 5.27 pm_
> 
> _Tell hank_
> 
>  
> 
> _Hanks kid || sent at 5.28 pm_
> 
> _About markus._
> 
>  
> 
> _To: Hanks kid || sent at 5.28 pm_
> 
> _Oohhhhhh_
> 
>  
> 
> _To: Hanks kid || sent at 5.29 pm_
> 
> _yeah I might've let that slip lol._
> 
>  
> 
> _Hanks kid || sent at 5.30 pm_
> 
> _CHRIS._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> immediately after stepping out of the ambulance, connor tripped into chris and chris was all like 'OH SHIT THAT WAS CUTE' and connors like 'pls dont tell hank'
> 
> chris tells hank


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im baaack

> _To: Kara || sent at 12.13 pm_
> 
> _I have nothing to do_
> 
>  
> 
> _Kara || sent at 12.15 pm_
> 
> _ok?? ask hank for something then_
> 
>  
> 
> _To: Kara || sent at 12.16 pm_
> 
> _Thats a problem, Hank isnt here >:( _
> 
>  
> 
> _Kara || sent at 12.16 pm_
> 
> _dads need rest too!_
> 
>  
> 
> _To: Kara || sent at 12.16 pm_
> 
> _Mmmmmshutup_
> 
>  
> 
> _Kara || sent at 12.17 pm_
> 
> _ha. get out of the house, con_
> 
>  
> 
> _Kara || read at 12.17 pm_
> 
> _god knows you need it_

* * *

Connor lets himself sink into the mattress, a hand flying up to ruffle at his curls. Rolling lazily across the bed, his shirt hitched up slightly. Glassy eyes blinking emptily at the ceiling. Stifling silence engulfed him, with only white noise as Connor's company. He grunted pointlessly, the sudden sound loud in the empty, empty room. It was impossible to stay still, feeling his fingers itch and his skin tingling uncomfortably. Hank had got up uncharacteristically early and ran out for an errand, Connor insisting on tagging along. The older man was adamant on Connor staying home, claiming that he needed  _'me-time'._

Whatever that meant.

He groaned, unable to think properly. Connor let himself fall off the bed, a loud _thud_ ringing against the walls. _This is what happens when Hank leaves me alone,_ Connor bitterly thought, rubbing at bleary eyes and yawning slowly. He huffed, finally deciding to do something with himself. 

Getting up, the young detective randomly plucked a pair of ripped jeans from the ground, hurriedly putting it on. Connor cursed silently, having the sudden horrific realisation that the jeans felt horrendously tight against his legs- specifically his bottom. Too unbothered to change, Connor turned his back to the mirror in his room, assessing the damage.

"Huh." He whistled. "Not bad, Connor." 

A wave of embarrassment rushed over him like a wave. God, he needed out of this house.

Making to exit the room, the detective halted in his tracks. Curious eyes latched onto a lone hoodie lying idly on his dresser, a gift from Luther. The hoodie itself was a bright, attractive yellow- patches of white roses stitched at the sleeves. Connor grinned, snatching the garment and immediately putting it on.

He knelt down near the doorway, staring at his shoe options. Really, he only owned two pairs. An everyday, nondescript pair of black dress shoes and checkerboard slip ons gifted to him by Kara. He remembered protesting against them, claiming that he'd never wear them but Kara had insisted. 

"My best friend needs _style_! You can't even dress yourself, Connor. They'd look good on you. Promise." She had said, tone teasing. Back then, he'd only laughed.

He'll let her win this round.

Sliding the shoes on, Connor shuffled out of his room. He slipped into the kitchen, spotting Sumo attempting to climb the counter.

"Hey," He greeted softly, Sumo lighting up at the sight of the human. "Hi, beautiful." Connor hummed quietly, smushing his face against Sumo's thick fur. The dog truly was a godsend. 

Sumo panted, thriving at the attention. Connor's smiles, fond. "I'm sorry, love. I've got to go," He whispered apologetically. Connor bundled over to the dog's food bowl and filled it to the brim, Sumo yapping happily behind him. 

He locked up the doors and finally left the house, shooting Hank a quick text, saying that he was going to be out. Connor begins his trek, mind wandering.

It had been exactly one week since he met Markus. Despite their promise, Connor hadn't actually initiated contact with the other man. He frowned, pondering the chances that he'd run into Markus during his walk.

The results were disappointing.

* * *

It had been exactly one week since he met Connor.

Lately, most of his thoughts revolved around the young detective- Connor had this endearing, awkward charisma that lured Markus in like mice with cheese. Like a thirsty man and a pail of water, just slightly out of his reach. 

He was recovering well, most of his wounds had healed nicely and Carl was also doing good, thankfully. Markus had been overjoyed when he learnt that Connor had captured the intruder so easily. He was also furious when he found out that said intruder was his own half-brother, Leo. 

His brows furrowed as the cold gust brushed his face, legs stiff from walking. Leo was always a prick, but he was still his brother. Markus could only pray that he'd change.

Brought out of his thoughts, clever eyes wandered around his surroundings. His eyes widened in delight, spotting a certain familiar cafe only a few blocks down- _Jericho_.

Markus worked part-time at Jericho _._ Simon, one of his closest friends and the owner of the cafe had offered a job to him and the rest had been history. He loved Jericho with all of his heart- his coworkers, the customers, the atmosphere. The mere thought of the cafe already had him grinning like a fool.

Speeding down the street, he practically barged his way inside the quaint building. He spotted North at the register, the strawberry blonde greeting him, politely.

"Markus? Why the hell are you here?

Perhaps _politely_ wasn't the right word. Not by a long shot.

"You don't have a shift today," She smirks slowly, wiping the already clean counter. "Unless you want to switch-"

"No, I don't."

"Damn, okay. Get out of 'ere then."

Markus grabbed his chest, clutching the exact spot where his heart would be. "I'm hurt," He sighed earnestly, teeth grinding. "I really am, North. I just wanted a coffee. Instead, I'm given wounds." He lets himself trail off dramatically, gazing at something in the far, far distance. Trying not to snicker, Markus spots North's face from his peripheral vision, horribly unamused.

"Yikes. Need a bandaid for that?" She deadpans, dragging her words out. Markus laughs this time, reaching out to ruffle at North's hair, only to be swat away. "Touch me and you're really going to need a bandaid."

Muffling chuckles, Markus stepped back.

* * *

Connor shuffled slowly, eyes fluttering shut as the soft wind breezed past him. He's been walking for a while now, heels clicking against the tough ground.

Mismatched eyes lazily scanned the road ahead. He spotted a tiny cafe, carefully placed fairy lights glowing amidst the dull, grey buildings- the faint glow of blue, red and yellow dancing daintily across the wide glass window. Connor saw newspaper clippings and tiny doodles hung all over the reflection, reminding him of a home. _Charming_.

A tiny smile danced across his face.  _Jericho,_ the cafe introduced itself.

Connor shrugged, lips curling up as his strides grew longer, swifter.

* * *

North leaned heavily against the counter, their banter halting. "So, what's up with you?"

Markus raised an eyebrow. "What's up with me?" The other woman rolled her eyes, a tiny smile flashing. "Yeah, you."

She sighed when the man had only tilted his head, bemused. "How are _you_? It's been too long since I've seen you, Markus. Especially after the incident," North flinched visibly. "Sorry, was that insensitive?" 

"No, it's fine," Markus reassured, lips quirking up faintly. "And, uh, I'm fine." At North's skeptic look, the other man raised both hands, as if in surrender."I'm fine, really." He assured, grinning faintly. He slowly pointed a finger up at North, wagging it slowly. She only glowered back at him, a line in between her brow forming. "Aww, North. Do you _care_ about me?" He croons, very much alike to a nagging mother. Irritation crossed North's face, her jaw slack.

" _No_ ," She squeaked out, looking more like a silly girl rather than an adult woman in her early-twenties. "Yes! M-maybe." She blustered, cheeks blazing rouge. Markus only brought his finger closer to the other woman, staring blankly as he booped her nose.

 _"Don't do that!"_ She roared, red faced and embarrassed. "You're such a kid, Markus-" The bell of the cafe rang, the soft jingle effectively cutting her sentence off. Markus and North could only stare as young, dark curls poked through the door. A pair of familiar brown and green eyes following right after.

* * *

_Markus_. 

Connor could already feel his cheeks heat up, wide eyes peeking hesitantly at the two figures staring at him from the counter.

There's a girl. Her eyes are big, brown and blue- like Markus. Dewy, olive skin radiating and wholly clear of the moles and freckles that dust every corner of Connor's face. Her cheeks are flushed deeply and he sees Markus's finger, barely grazing the tip of her nose. Connor purses his lips, heavy tension seeping into his shoulders.

"I'm not intruding on something, am I?" He uttered quietly, ill-matched eyes meeting Markus's own.

He sees familiarity flare on Markus's face, something akin to excitement quickly flashing. Connor bit his lip, the girl behind the counter watching him openly, curiously.

* * *

Markus attempted not to let his sudden eagerness show, but from Connor's nervous glances, he supposed he wasn't doing an amazing job at easing the other man.

North gazed silently at the youthful detective, sharp eyes catching every detail. After a few uneasy seconds pass, she smiles, invitingly. "Hey. Sorry about that, you weren't intruding," She cocks her head to the side, the very image of _friendly_.

Connor's posture softens, less rigid. He smiles lopsidedly, still-nervous stare darting towards Markus. The taller man grins, nodding at the vinyl booths before shuffling away. Out of the corner of his eye, Markus spots Connor fidget slightly, a tiny grin plastered on the shorter man's face.

Markus plomps himself at the booth, velvet cushions soft against his back. He watches Connor approach North at the register, laughing politely at something she says. They spoke quietly, all of Connor's rapt attention focused solely on the other woman.

 _They seem like they're having fun,_ Markus noted, humming. North spoke with her hands, manic gestures theatrical and charming. Connor motions at the large menu above them, pointing at something. The other woman raises a drawn eyebrow, smile never ceasing as she jokes with Connor. He laughs with mirth, eyes crinkling at the corners. North wrote something on a cup, sliding it away before leaning in close and whispering something in Connor's ear, causing him to blush crimson. Markus watches all of this, his brow furrowing and something painful promptly stabbing his chest.

Connor slides away from the counter, long legs carrying him towards Markus's red booth. He slips in the opposite cushion, facing the other man. Pushing away his odd and sudden uneasiness, Markus grins, head lolling. "Hello, detective."

Said detective shifted his eyes away from Markus, a shy pout blooming across his face. "It's Connor, please," Mismatched eyes look up at Markus through dainty, dark lashes and Markus feels as if his heart _may_ burst.

"Hi, Connor. _Please_." He can't help but grin uncontrollably just being around this man. Connor groans, attempting to hide his face in the sleeves of his hoodie. Markus beamed softly, eyes twinkling. "I never got to properly thank you," He starts, fingers tapping on the table.

"About what happened the other week. Thank you for finding Leo, thank you for not hurting him. Thank you for being so patient with me even if I had not been very cooperative. _Thank you_." Markus cannot express all of his gratitude through words, so he simply reaches out and grabs Connor's soft, soft palm, squeezing it. "It means the world."

Connor's eyes widen momentarily, as if actually _surprised_ that someone would've been grateful because of his doing, much less thanking him. He visibly recollects himself, smiling humbly. "It's my job, Markus. No need to thank me."

The words he said usually would've annoyed Markus, had it been another person. But it's Connor- He speaks with honesty, modesty and Markus is _so, so_ terrified at how he finds everything about this man to be _so, so_ endearing.

Markus is just about to say more when North saunters up to them, hips swaying lazily. 

"Boys," She dips her chin, smile slack. "Here to provide thirst-fixers." North clicks her tongue, winking carelessly at the two men. "Though, I don't think they're that useful. Considering that I'm still around." She snorts, settling herself comfortably next to Markus. Said man groaning earnestly.

Connor hums, smile small. "That was a joke about your appearance, correct? Clever," He nods, solemn. North whistles, quick fingers rapping against dark wood. "This face isn't a joke, honey." She jests. 

Markus nudges his best friend, mildly annoyed. "North, you've got work." The words drip from his lips, wet and sickeningly sweet. North narrows her eyes dangerously, mouth tugging up in a sugary smile.  "Markus, baby." She pauses, dramatically. " _N_ o  _one is here!_ " North hissed, turning in her seat and pointing out the very obviously empty cafe at Markus. The other man spots Connor shift in his seat, watching them intently. North whips her head back at Markus, dark lashes fluttering against supple skin. He grunts, looking away.

"Weak!" North whoops, slapping Markus on the shoulder.  _Hard_. Connor stares, amused. His eyes are foggy as his lips curve up, smiling.

Connor snaps his head up softly, as if coming to. "H-happens often, I'm assuming?" He queries, taking a slow sip of his drink.

"Too often," Markus shrugged, annoyance slowly fading. Connor chuckled gingerly, playing with his sleeves. Markus's eyes betrayed him as they snaked down to meet long, skillful fingers- taut against bone and painted with freckles. His fingers were experienced, fast and unhesitant. They spoke of spilled ink in the late night and the absolute ugliest of crimes. Markus blinked at Connor, the other man shifting his gaze. Lips bitten red and cheeks coloured even redder. He was the kind of man whom you'd easily find yourself infatuated with, and Markus drank up the view like famine at a feast- he prays not to choke. 

"So.. Connor," North drawled, lips twitching up. "You and Markus seem friendly. How do you guys know each other?" She cocks her head to the side, cooly. Connor sat up straighter, his voice clearer, louder."I was part of an investigation," He pauses, eyes skimming their faces. "I had to interrogate a man involved in the incident. Of course, that man being Markus. Our first interaction was.. something." Connor cringed, nose scrunching up as he recalled the embarrassing memory. Markus simply chuckles, fleeting yet melodic. "To cut it short, Markus was able to assist in discovering our perp." Said man smiled fondly. "Glad to be of help."

North regarded them slowly. " _Huh_. You guys look close." She crooned, a coy grin manifesting itself on her face. Markus huffed, failing miserably at hiding his own tiny smile. He opened his mouth to say something, only to be cut off by North.

"Connor, before I forget, you've got really pretty eyes." She says quickly, mischievous eyes darting to Markus before hurriedly looking back at the other man. Connor gaped, hand flying up to his face, brushing against long eyelashes. He settles his palm on freckled, newly pink cheeks. "Uh. Thanks."

"Which one do you think is yours?" North asked, fingers tapping the table rhythmically. Connor's brows furrow in thought, the hand on his cheek moving to rub at his chin. Markus listens, content. It wasn't so taboo to ask another person about their eyes, some even finding it just as tedious as small talk. Leaning leisurely against the soft plush of the booth, Markus closes his eyes.

"I really don't know." His eyes flutter open to see Connor staring aimlessly out the shop window. "I love the green. It's.. vibrant. Fresh." He continued, tight-lipped. "But maybe just brown fits better." He shrugs nonchalantly, posture stiff. North frowned, a perplexed look on her face. 

"Connor," She began. "Brown eyes are great. You're great. Eye color doesn't really matter, anyway." North huffed out, an attempt at reassurance. Connor's smile is small, grateful. The silence that comes after is comforting, much-needed.

An abrupt smack noisily interrupts the quiet, the two men jumping as North suddenly thundered up, eyes wild and movement erratic. 

 _"Shit!_ Fuck me over, the cookies in the oven-!" North cuts herself off, teeth gritting as she flies out of her seat, the heels of her shoes clicking against the tiled ground. She rushes behind the counter, out of sight. A loud crash sounding immediately after.

_"Motherfuck-"_

Markus bit his lip, unsure whether to sigh or laugh at his friend's antics. Connor laughed gently, the sound bubbling and honeyed. His warm gaze caught Markus's stare, an embarrased Connor's chuckles trailing off into awkward coughs. "Hi."

His face betrayed him, an involuntary grin settling on Markus's lips. "Hi yourself."

Connor cocks his head, frowning. "I never understood that phrase." He admitted. "Oh really? Shit, sorry." Markus apologised. Connor waved offhandedly. "Ah, no! It's fine. It's just.. tough to understand." He pauses, pondering. "I mean, _hi yourself._ What does it mean? If you say it, a-are you greeting the person back?" He heaves a quick breath. "In context, is it supposed to be rude or not? An innocent hello or cold greeting? Well, I guess it depends on your tone.." Connor trails off, deflating slightly. He fidgets, staring down at the table. 

Markus gaped at the other man, in awe. 

"I never thought about it like that." he says. "I guess it does depend on your tone." A pause. "God, Connor, you're making me overthink _hi yourself_." Markus lets out a breathy sigh, smile small. Connor bashfully glances down, humming. "I can't help it."

A mellow ringtone rang from underneath the table, Markus cursing quietly as he pulled out his phone and answered the call. "Hello, yeah?" His face fell promptly, harshly biting his lip. "Okay, thank you. Bye." Markus replied, flatly. He gave a long sigh, sorry eyes meeting Connor's.

"Hey, Connor. Sorry, I really need to leave.." He trailed off, disappointment staining his words. Connor opened his lips to speak, stopping himself when Markus's mismatched eyes lit up suddenly. He grabbed Connor's arm, his free hand began to search for something hidden somewhere in his jacket. Connor watching open-eyed at the taller man, his cheeks pinking faintly. A few seconds pass, Markus pulling out a vivid blue gel pen from deep inside his jacket pockets. His eyes crinkle as he pops the top off with his teeth, furiously scribbling on the inside of Connor's forearm.

He grins, capping the pen. "Here, call me- or text! Either is fine," Markus chuckles awkwardly, elegant demeanor gone. Connor beams, a sudden burst of confidence booming from within his chest. "I'll think about it." He sasses, the dumb smile plastered on his face greatly contridicting his words. The gel pen fell from Markus's fingers, clattering loudly on the counter.

"G-great! I guess I'll- guess I'll go now." Markus leaned back, his smile bright although small. Connor stared as he spun around and strode away, eyes never leaving Markus's retreating back. Lingering near the doorway where Connor had came in through not too long ago, Markus's head turns back and he meets the other man's gaze. They stay like that for one electrifying second, before Markus whips his head back and the ding of the bell sounds. 

Connor lets himself breathe, heavy lungs thanking him immensely. His gaze falls to the forgotten blue pen on the table, lithe fingers reaching out to curl around the stationery. Connor pockets the pen, eyes falling on his forearm to see Markus's neat writing scrawled in blue ink. He throws his head back against the soft plush, eyes fluttering shut as he grins stupidly for what seemed like the hundredth time.

From the register, a soot-covered North leaned over the counter languidly. She watched the awestruck Connor, her own stupid grin gracing lipstick stained lips. Blowing a dirty strand of hair away, North pillows her face in her arms, eyes falling shut. "They didn't say _no homo_ ," She whispered.

* * *

> _Lt. Dad || sent at 2.11 pm_
> 
> _Connor wher teh fukc are u_
> 
>  
> 
> _Lt. Dad || sent at 2.11 pm_
> 
> _Connor_
> 
>  
> 
> _Lt. Dad || sent at 2.12 pm_
> 
> _I s2g_
> 
>  
> 
> _To: Lt. Dad || sent at 2.13 pm_
> 
> _Hi dad_
> 
>  
> 
> _Lt. Dad || sent at 2.15 pm_
> 
> _Connor ! Get ur ass to work_
> 
>  
> 
> _Lt. Dad || sent at 2.15 pm_
> 
> _Shift starts in 45 but if ur not here in 30 im yeeting u_
> 
>  
> 
> _Lt. Dad || read at 2.16 pm_
> 
> _Thats what the kids say eyy_
> 
>  
> 
> _Lt. Dad || read at 2.20 pm_
> 
> _DONT U DARE FUKCIFNG LEVAE ME ON READ I RAISED U_
> 
>  
> 
> _To: Lt. Dad || read at 2.21_
> 
> _Be there in 20 <33_

* * *

"The fuck you so smiley for, son?" Hank raised an eyebrow, lazily lounging in his chair. Connor settled himself across from his father, somewhat out of breath. He had rushed all the way home just to change into his uniform, and had rushed his way to the DPD.

Connor adjusted his tie, barely registering the tiny grin on his face. "Ah, nothing." Hank stared at him, blankly. "Really, it's nothing, Hank." Connor eased, the older man hummed, doubtful. "This ain't nothing, Con. It's something, and it better be a good something." He huffed stubbornly, watching as Connor swivelled in his seat, something the younger did awfully frequently as of recent. 

"Okay, Hank!" Connor called out, swirling away. He stomped his foot, halting the rogue chair. Fumbling, he pulled out the same blue gel pen from earlier and began to chew on the tip. _Markus wouldn't mind,_ he attempted to reassure himself, fully aware that there was barely even a chance that Markus would even see his pen again. Connor pulled up his phone, tapping the small screen swiftly. Ill-matched eyes darted towards his exposed forearm, the sleeves pulled back to expose blue ink. Connor smiles to himself, blissfully unaware of Hank's prying eyes.

> _To: Markus || sent at 2.46 pm_
> 
> _Hi, its Connor :)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so so so soooo sorry for the delay guys, life has been really tough on me recently :((( its alright though! ya girl is pushing thruu 
> 
> i worked rlly hard on this chapter and made it longer than usual (fr its like 3000 wtf) so hells yeah
> 
> pls comment what u thought!! it means the actual world to me <333 also im rlly sorry for the weird and sudden pov switches oof


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yalls, enjoy this chap! <33

> _To: Markus || sent at 2.46 pm_
> 
> _Hi, its Connor :)_
> 
> _Markus || sent at 2.46 pm_
> 
> _Hey Connor!_
> 
> _To: Markus || sent at 2.47 pm_
> 
> _Oh wow. That was a fast reply :p_
> 
> _Markus || sent at 2.47 pm_
> 
> _I usually dont keep people I like waiting._

"Stop grinning, Connor. It's creepy." Hank says, voice musing from somewhere behind him.

"Sorry, Hank." Connor calls out, grinning.

> _To: Markus || sent at 2.48 pm_
> 
> _Aww... thanks_
> 
> _Markus || sent at 2.48 pm_
> 
> _So.._
> 
>  
> 
> _Markus || sent at 2.48 pm_
> 
> _What are you doing?_
> 
>  
> 
> _To: Markus || sent at 2.49 pm_
> 
> _Oh im actyally about to get into work rn_
> 
>  
> 
> _To: Markus || sent at 2.49 pm_
> 
> _*actually. Nervous fingers, haha._
> 
>  
> 
> _Markus || sent at 2.50 pm_
> 
> _Nervous of what? Lol_
> 
>  
> 
> _Markus || sent at 2.50 pm_
> 
> _Also, shouldn't you be getting ready or something? No texting, detective._
> 
>  
> 
> _Markus || sent at 2.51 pm_
> 
> _If I were an officer of the law, I'd_ _definitely have you sent to my office._

_Oh my God_. Choking on his saliva, Connor stared, flushed, at the taunting screen. He couldn't help but imagine Markus in uniform- black button down neat and tight against his torso, his collar undone and leaving certain thoughts better left unsaid. Imaginary Markus leans against a mahagony desk, smirking darkly. His trousers taut against strong thighs and.. other places. 

Connor gulps, crossing his legs.

> _To: Markus || sent at 2.51 pm_
> 
> _So forward, officer.._
> 
> _Markus || sent at 2.51 pm_
> 
> _I can't help it._

"Stop texting your little friend," Hank chides, hurriedly tugging on his coat. "Another case just came in." He shuffles on his feet, narrowed eyes watching the still-grinning Connor. _Little_ , Connor hummed to himself. _Probably far from that, Hank._

He swiftly taps out a text, eyes flashing. Connor tucks his phone away, the remnants of a blush lingering on his cheeks. "Coming, Hank!" 

> _To: Markus || sent at 2.52 pm_
> 
> _Sorry Markus i've got work now :( i'll text you later._

* * *

Connor speeds down the road, cursing loudly as he nearly drives into a fluorescent yellow sign, ironically reading _'SLOW'._ He swerves away from the pavement, biting his tongue as the engine revs uncomfortably. A frayed and wide-eyed Hank huffs, desperately grabbing onto the arm rest. "God, kid-" Connor suddenly shifts the wheel, simultaneously cutting Hank off and moving them into the line of traffic. The younger man's leg bounces erratically, fingers itching against the steering wheel.

He veers left, swerving away from an unassuming teenage girl. " _WATCH THE DAMN ROAD._ " Hank pleads, near mercifully. "Whose fuckin' idea was this? Shit, t'was mine. I shouldn't have let you drive." His tone was comically weary, blue eyes shooting regretful looks at the road.

"My apologies, lieutenant!" Connor yells, a series of annoyed honks sounding loudly from behind them. "For what it's worth, I am quite enjoying this- _Sorry!_ " The younger man calls out, narrowly running over a dreamy-eyed, little boy. "That's not worth anything!" Hank yelps, and if you had asked Connor, the older man's eyes were practically throbbing out of his skull- eerily similiar to the funny cartoons Alice loved watching.

Attempting not to get themselves killed, Connor messily darts back and forth from the different lanes, adrenaline bright and bursting through his veins. A small, bubbling laugh rumbles through Connor's chest. Hank blanched, hands gripping his seat belt firmly.

"We're gonna die." He deadpans, face as white as a sheet, a scowl taut against his lips. Connor shrugs, eyes stuck to the road. "Maybe not," He shoots a quick, boyish grin at the lieutenant, said grin disappearing just as quick as Connor- once again- avoids another innocent pedestrian crossing the street. This time, a frail older woman in floral print. She whips her head in their direction, shrieking a number of colourful curses, twisting her fist at the sky.

Hank eyes her shrinking form through the rear mirror, a single eyebrow raised. "Again-" 

"I know."

The older man grunts, burrowing himself deeper into his coat. "Just hurry up. I'd rather Chris fuss than die in some sad crash." 

* * *

Chris lets out a small sigh, face flooding with relief. "Finally! I was worried for a bit there," Hank strides past him, jabbing an accusing thumb back at Connor. "We would've been here faster if _someone_ weren't so reckless." Connor jogs up to them, slightly frenzied. "But I didn't get us killed," He blurts out, flashing a toothy smile. Hank waves dismissively. "I'll do the drivin' back. Chris, it was a _nightmare_." He grunted, the officer nodding solemnly. "I'm sure it was."

An aray of bright lights flashed across Chris' face, shielding his eyes in neon red and blue. He smiled tentatively at the father-son duo, waving them toward the scene. "Walk faster, we've got quite the problem here." Chris treks off, leaving Hank and Connor in comfortable silence.

"Hank, I'm aware of the dangers that I'd pitted on us back there, and I.." He trailed off. "Have no excuse for that." Connor ended dumbly, staring down at muddy shoes. His own form of apology. How could Hank stay mad at him? Sure, Connor had nearly given him a heart attack- and on many other occasions, too- but he was his son. His eyes turned fond as he watched the nervous detective, a soft smile playing on the face of the usually hard-boiled man. God knows he won't get a third chance at a son. 

"Quit the puppy eyes. Don't worry about it." Hank murmured. Connor brightened, smile growing wider. "Shit, Connor, I said quit it." The older man chuckled out, tender. The detective nodded vigorously, hair bouncing. "Thank you, Hank." 

They caught up to Chris, the man tapping his foot. A pharmacy stood behind him, its green walls dim against the loud neon lights. "Attempted theft," He huffed, nodding at the small store. "Intruder's a woman of about-" He clicks his tongue, eyebrows furrowing. "Twenty years? Anyway, she's being- difficult." Chris frowned, glancing back at the pharmacy. "I'll handle the crowd. You guys, do your thing." He shoots a half-hearted finger gun at them before jogging away.

"He sure likes to run off." Connor quiped. Hank rubbed at his temples, eyes closed. "Alright. Connor, you know the jig." He huffed, heading for the store front. " _You_ like to run off," He murmured at nothing, eyeing his surroundings.

A thin, drawn woman was cuffed to a pole outside the pharmacy. She stood, leaning against the cold metal, looking as if her legs were about to give out. The skin underneath her cuffs were bruised, blood oozing out like worms. Her shoulders shook violently, a disturbing image on her small frame. Connor stood by as her head whipped up in his direction, brown eyes narrowed and wary. Her face contorted, lips pulling up in a sneer. A slow growl rumbled from her chest.  

"Where.." She gritted out, taking in a shaky breath. "Wh-where's Rose?" She trembled against the pole, bottom lip sucked in tight under her teeth. Her clothes were dirty and torn- she'd been in a struggle. Connor found himself standing next to Gavin, the other man eyeing the blue-haired woman with growing despair. He turned to Connor, spitting. Always spitting. "I don't know what the _fuck_ is her deal, but you have to sort this through," He hissed, storming away like a bird in flight.

"Oh my God, _Rose-_ " The woman croaked out suddenly, chin wobbling. "Where's Rose?" She repeated with the same desperation as ugly static, eyes flashing. "What did you do to her? _Rose!_ " Delirious tears streamed from brown eyes as the woman collapsed onto the hard ground, a mess of limbs.

Connor knelt down, slowly. His presence seemed to have no effect on the thrashing woman, her shrieks slowly dying down to hopeless mumbles. "It's alright, everything's fine. Rose is safe." Connor soothed. "She's safe?" The woman rasped, eyes wide yet unfocused. Her lips- parted in a perfect _O._

"Yes." He paused. "No harm will come to her." Promises were fatal, yes, but this woman was hurting. "My name is Connor, what's your name?" He said, carefully adjusting his knees into a more comfortable position. Her eyes were heavy, like she hadn't slept in years. "B-Blaire." Her voice was strangely clear, head lolling slightly.

The woman, Blaire, blinked. Connor sat there, as her chest heaved with sharp inhales and even heavier exhales. Her eyes were clouded and staring right into Connor. The detective remained still as Blaire steadied herself, chest no longer heaving. Her bottom lip wobbled, and she shivered. 

"What happened here, Blaire?" His tone was soft, his words slow. Blaire only blinked. "R-Rose was hurt." She broke the silence, puffs of cold air escaping from her lips. "Hurt? How so?" He flexed his fingers, letting them fall to his lap. Blaire looked at him, her gaze way beyond her age. "Listen. Rose got her period early. Our stock had just ran out. Do you know how bad that is for two runaways? No advil, no pads. _Nothing._ " She spat, sneer returning. 

Blaire jut her chin out and gulped, cheeks still wet. "I thought she'd be fine. That _we'd_ be fine. I should've known, Rose gets _Hell_ instead of cramps." Her words were a blow, hissing and hissing at something she couldn't reach. Connor's lip twitched. He faltered, voice strained.

"You mentioned earlier that you two were runaways." _Tense_. He was too tense. "Yeah." Blaire mumbled. She was careful. Her eyes darted away from him. 

But he was stubborn. "Care to explain?" He prodded, the epitome of concern. Blaire stared down at her dirty converse, lips pressed together. "Rose and I, we're in love." Her voice fell flat. "She- she had a thing going for her." Blaire laughed, the sound empty. "Nice house, good school, loving _parents_ ," She spat, smile slipping. 

"What was there for me?" A useless orphan, now a runaway." She blinked hard. "You know, I couldn't believe it. That we were soulmates." She smiled ruefully at the unsaid memory. Blaire twitched, her smile disappearing as fast as it arrived. "Her parents were unaccepting, and we loved each other. So we ran." Her cuffs clinked, the metal _twang_ harsh against Connor's ears. If he had felt anything, his face didn't hint at it.

Blaire closed her eyes. "I.. I want her to hold me in her arms again." She muttered, more to herself than anything. "Make me forget about everything, everyone.." Her eyes shot open. "Y-you can't send her back. Listen, you don't understand what her dad will do to her. _Please-_ " Her voice cracked, a harsh reminder of how young she was.

There was a scratch at his throat. He fought the urge to claw at his neck. "Blaire, you have to tell me. Where is Rose? We can get her someplace safe, somewhere without her father." He promised, fingers itching to reach out. "F-four blocks away. In an alleyway, behind a truck. She's probably asleep.." Blaire slurred, eyes watery. "Don't scare her." She slumped into herself, head bowed. Connor tentatively stood, forehead creased. "We're going to get Rose. She'll be safe. You- hang on." Connor said, lamely. He'd never been the best at goodbyes. 

Her cuffs clattered, dried blood coating her wrists. "Connor? I'm tired."

* * *

> **Case Number : 950455437**
> 
> **Date: 19 November 2018**
> 
> **Reporting Officer/s: Lt. Hank Anderson, Det. Connor Anderson**
> 
> **Prepared by: Det. Connor Anderson**
> 
> **Incident Type: Petty theft**
> 
> **Address of Occurrence: 1177 Woodward Av. Detroit, Michigan, USA**
> 
> **Persons Involved:**
> 
>   * **Floyd Mills: Pharmacist. Male. 37. White.**
> 

> 
> **Offender:**
> 
>   * **Blaire Tracy: Unemployed. Female. 19. White. No criminal history.**
> 

> 
> **Evidence:**
> 
>   * **CCTV footage found in the pharmacy**
> 

> 
> **Weapon/Objects used: None**
> 
> **On November 19, 2018, at approximately 14:42, Blaire Tracy entered Eden's Pharmacy and attempted theft. Tracy had collected an assortment of sanitary products before being caught.**
> 
> **The persons involved had confronted Tracy. He claims that Tracy was clumsy in her act and fought back before help arrived. T** **racy had been contained at roughly 15:16 and interrogated by Det. Anderson at 15:29.**
> 
> **Her motive, Rose Brown, was found and collected by a selective team an hour later. Brown will be questioned at a later date.**
> 
> **Tracy will face charges, although this is her first offense.**

* * *

"Connor? You alright?" Chris' voice rang out, snapping said detective out of his haze. "Hey, you're pale." His nose scrunched up, concerned eyes digging into Connor's skin. "Just thinking," Connor dismissed, leaning back against his office chair. Background chatter and white noise cluttered the DPD, his fingers tapping against the keyboard. 

After Blaire and Rose, Hank had drove them back to DPD quarters, lecturing him about safety regulations the entire while. He sighed, tiredly typing away at reports. Always the more boring part of the day. 

Chris fumbled on his feet. Connor felt the officer's gaze linger on him, wanting to say more. Fortunately, Hank barged in, trying to juggle three warm cups of coffee. "Fuck, _hot!_ " He hissed, fumbling as he set the spilling mugs on Connor's desk. Hank ploped himself on a chair adjacent to Connor, gesturing to the cups. "Drink up, it's still hot." He grunted, Chris chuckling as he picked up a cup.

"Aww, sir." He cooed, craddling his drink. "Shut it, Chris." He snapped, a traitorous grin finding its way on his face. Connor rolled his eyes, sipping his cup and immediately regretting it. " _Shit!_ " He stuck his reddening tongue out, eyes scrunched closed. Hank laughed, the sound horribly syrupy. "What'd I say!" Chris choked on his own saliva, setting his mug away before it spilled on his uniform.

"You all suck," Connor pouted, though it sounded more like ' _Yo awl sak,_ ' prompting the other two men to howl with laughter. " _Ay haye yo guys._ " He sulked. Chris snorted, muttering a " _He's so cute!_ " while Hank's cackles ventured into worrying territory. 

Leaving the two men to their own devices, Connor nursed his aching tongue and switched his phone on, a row of notifications popping up. E-mails, work, spam, was that a penis? Nevermind. Oh, Kara sent a cat video.

> _Kara || sent at 3.42 pm_
> 
> _[CHECK. THIS. OUT.](https://youtu.be/m_dqkuviBVI) _
> 
>  
> 
> _Kara || sent at 3.43 pm_
> 
> _best ten mins of my life._
> 
>  
> 
> _To: Kara || sent at 5.01 pm_
> 
> _Haha, I've seen this one already :p_
> 
>  
> 
> _Kara || sent at 5.02 pm_
> 
> _DANG IT. i was sooo looking forward to ur reaction_
> 
>  
> 
> _To: Kara || sent at 5.03 pm_
> 
> _Better luck next time. Ur talking to the CHAMPION of cat videos._
> 
>  
> 
> _Kara || sent at 5.03 pm_
> 
> _motherly sigh_

He chuckled at Kara's antics. Perhaps his self-claimed title was a bit sad, but it was cats. So, free pass. Connor's phone chimed again, and he felt his face grow hot.

> _Markus || sent at 5.05 pm_
> 
> _Hey detective. I've been meaning to ask, are you free tomorrow?_

"He's blushing, lieutenant! He's _talking_ to someone-" " _Shhh!_ He'll hear you!"

> _Markus || sent at 5.05 pm_
> 
> _Or any time, haha. Not necessarily tomorrow lol._
> 
>  
> 
> _To: Markus || sent at 5.06 pm_
> 
> _Thought you'd never ask :)_
> 
>  
> 
> _To: Markus || sent at 5.06 pm_
> 
> _That was a yes btw_
> 
>  
> 
> _Markus || sent at 5.07 pm_
> 
> _Lmao._
> 
>  
> 
> _Markus || sent at 5.07 pm_
> 
> _Cool._
> 
>  
> 
> _Markus || sent at 5.08 pm_
> 
> _So, Jericho at 10? Tomorrow? I'll buy you breakfast. North makes the best waffles. :D_
> 
>  
> 
> _To: Markus || sent at 5.09 pm_
> 
> _Definitely._

"Wow. Connor's got a date," Someone poorly whispered from behind him. Connor spun around only to see a guilty looking Chris and an exasperated Hank, only a hair away from his bare neck. "You broke our cover, Chris." Hank deadpanned, breath brushing Connor's skin. Chris shrugged. "Guilty as charged."

"You guys are horrible." Connor rasped, the huge grin on his face greatly contradicting his words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM BACK (AGAIN) !
> 
> so soo sorry for the horrible delay you guys! never fear, i dont intend to abandon this fic anytime soon. but expect some late updates ehe,,
> 
> i realised while writing this chap that im wayy better at writing domestic fluff than i am at angst but, o well!
> 
> also, ive big, big plans and storylines for certain characters in the furture. just throwing it out there ;)
> 
> thats all, love yalls


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO LOVES IM BAAAAACK

_"Catch up!" The boy yelled, dimpled grin widening. The other boy huffed, legs stuttering from strain. Beads of sweat crowned his forehead, the sun heavy on his back. "Don't go too fast!" Connor cried. Halting to a stop, the taller boy turned to him._

_"If you can't keep up, why play the game?" The playful smile disappeared, replaced with a scowl. "You never play with me!" The younger shrieked. Connor's eyebrows furowed, mouth still agape. Was he being for real? "Maybe if you weren't a pushover, I'd play with you!" Connor yelled, moving to push the boy._

_Stepping to the side, he grabbed Connor's wrist, twisting it painfully._

_"Argh! S-stop, Ri-"_

Thud!

"U-ugh.." Connor wheezed from the floor, squirming uselessly. The thin sheet stuck onto his skin, smelling of sweat and broken hopes. "Oh, that stinks," The detective stuck his nose up in the air, slowly gathering the will to crawl out of his blanket burrito. He rolled across the floor, legs shaking as he sat up and kneeled near the dresser.

He snatched his phone, eyes still crusty as he blinked owlishly at the device. _9.23 am._

"Nghh!" He choked, a sudden image of Markus and waffles clouding his thoughts. _Oh right, Jericho._ Connor got up, making his way into the bathroom.

Bi-coloured eyes and messy hair regarded him quietly, he sighed. His hand automatically grabbed his toothbrush and went to brush, nearly forgetting the toothpaste. Pausing, he lazily squeezed said paste onto the brush. Brushing, he shut his eyes, thoughts drifting to Markus. Markus and _Jericho._ Markus, _Jericho_ and waffles. Markus, _Jericho_ , waffles and probably that girl again. His nose scrunched up, North, was it? He'd find out later today.

Spitting into the sink, he washed his hands and fiddled with his hair, hoping to make it look somewhat nice. Failing to do so, Connor sighed (Why did it feel like sighing was the only thing he'd done so far?) and turned to the urinal on the wall.

After he'd washed his hands and mused with his hair some more, he came out of the bathroom, feeling fresher than before. He spared a glance at his phone. _9.28 am_. No worries, it was barely 10.

Connor groaned, moving to shuffle through his drawers. God, when was the last time he looked through here? When was the last time he even wore a T-shirt? Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a coffee-stained button down goading him quietly. He frowned.

What even was a good colour on him? Kara had said that'd been yellow but it was such a glaring colour. Kara had smacked his arm at that. Black? No, too basic. What about white? Wait, he didnt own anything like that.

Connor groaned, slumping into himself. He dug through his poor drawers, desperation growing before a flash of blue caught his eye. The shirt was a shade darker than baby blue, plain other than a pocket on it's left breast. Connor hummed, bunching it up in his arms before moving to the wardobe, kicking his way through the sea of band shirts and ugly sweaters. He snatched up a random pair of jeans and threw on his shirt before flying out the door.

(Later, when he was 10 minutes from home and all snug in an Uber, he cursed at himself for not bothering to buy a new iron. Damn these wrinkles.)

* * *

 When Markus woke up at approximately _10.01 am_ that morning, he took one look at his alarm clock and promptly turned back to bed. He shot up out of bed a minute later, a barrage of curses following him to the bathroom.

Half an hour later, Markus found himself turning down the corner to _Jericho_ \- his pace rivaling that of a soccer mom. The wind hit his face unpleasantly, tinging his ears in cold. Helpfully, his mind supplied a flash of an annoyed looking Connor, frowning in distaste. _Yikes_. Approaching the cafe, he cringed.

He hesitantly snuck a glance at _Jericho's_ large window, spotting a familiar strawberry-blonde head and another darker one, heads turned together in discussion. _(_ He could already hear North cussing him out. Trouble seemed to love him. _)_

Hurrying towards the colourful door of the cafe, he heaved a large sigh. It was now or never. A morbid jingle rang out as he pushed the door open, two pairs of eyes snapping to meet his own. 

"Oh my _God_. Markus." North was the first to 'greet' him, piping up almost instantly. "His Majesty has arrived, and His Majesty is also _late_." She sneered, her tone missing its usual bite. She sighed, whispering something to the bemused looking Connor before getting up and tutting loudly at the even more regretful Markus. From where he could see him, Connor seemed to hunch into himself. Tiny, quiet.

_Ah, this is worse than molded bread. I'm never getting married at this rate._

He shuffled over to the booth, plomping down onto the unusually stiff velvet. Connor was silent, eyes glazed over. Long, nimble fingers mindlessly tracing a mug with coffee long turned cold. Markus only sat there for a moment, taking in the serene, almost sad view in front of him. "I-" He tried, the moment broken. Connor dared a peek. Markus shut his eyes.

"I'm sorry." He said, eyebrows furrowed. "Honestly, I'm an ass. A huge one. Ah, I have no excuse for this. There is no excuse for my- my _tardiness_. Connor-" He was rambling. God, he was _rambling_. A flurry of sentences flew out of his (usually eloquent) mouth, unable to keep the contents from spilling. His eyes stayed screwed shut, afraid that, if he opened them, Connor would've been gone.

" _Markus_." Connor, always the calm during the storm (Or was it _before?_ ). Opening his eyes, Markus saw the sun filtering through the cold day, its warmth gently melting through his skin and into his bones. Alternatively worded, Connor was grinning at him, eyes scrunched up and chuckling softly with mirth. _He has a mole below his left eye_ , Markus noted mindlessly.

"It's fine. I don't mind.." He paused. "Actually, I _do_ mind." He frowned, eyebrows knitted together almost comically. In an instant, his sunny demeanor was back. "But, you can and will make it up to me." Connor hummed, clearly pleased with himself. Markus stared. "You're going to give me whiplash." He marvelled breathelessly, eyes lit up in awe.

Connor shrugged, smile cheeky. "Now, where are my waffles? I remember I was promised waffles." His fingers circled the rim of his mug. "Or am I going to be severely disappointed?" Something dangerous glinted in his eyes. Markus was _damned_.

He slowly brought out his wallet, making a show of checking his money before sneaking a glance at the amused-looking Connor. He grinned. "Waffles, huh? Damn.." Pause. "Seems like I only have enough for one set." Connor looked like he was ready to intervene before Markus continued.

"-Enough for, say, _The Deluxe Loverdover-Somberbomber Waffle Combo_? Only available in _Jericho_ chains, by the way. Which, there is only one." 

Connor's eyes were wide, freckled cheeks pinking the slightest amount. "You made that up. There is no chance that exists." Connor countered, eyes lit up in a way Markus had never seen before. "Oh, but it does. Created by me and Her Majesty." He grinned. "It wasn't a pretty process."

Connor hummed. "I could tell. So, _Loverdover-Somberbomber_? What does that even mean?" Markus huffed, mentally calculating his funds. (There was no way that North would let him get away with a discount. The fact that he worked there be damned.) 

"Suprisingly, I actually have an answer for that." Connor gave him a look. " _Love_ , it makes people somber- it takes away and shatters hearts for fun. A bomb has a similar effect to love, or should I say, heartbreak. It's sudden, it's catastrophic, it's not pretty. The aftermath leaves people hurting." Breaking off from his tangent, Markus found the decency to blush. "Though, I am a mere amateur poet. I know nothing about everything." 

He closed his eyes, the words coming to him slowly. "That, to me, is what _Loverdover-Somberbomber_ is." He snapped open one eye, looking over at Connor, who was sipping at his coffee. "North and I made our baby as a little _Valentines only_ kind of deal. It's been months and eventually we forgot to take it off the menu. Not to mention it's actually fun to make." He shrugged, grinning boyishly. "I've grown attached." His gazed raked over the blushing Connor. (Maybe he wasn't talking about the waffles. Who could be so sure?)

Connor's hand flew to his lips, an attempt from hiding his smile. His fingers fumbled with his now empty mug, shoulder shaking heartily from the joyful chuckles spilling from behind his palm. Markus's grip on his wallet loosened, recollecting himself when his coins nearly fell out. "Do me a favour, Markus," Connor piped up, pushing his mug over to the other man. "Refill my cup and go order, then we'll talk poetry." He cocked his head, eyes shining. "Personally, I'm more of a science guy."

Markus got up, smoothly snatching the mug up. "We all have a type." He grinned, tone pointed. "I will see you around, Detective Anderson." He strode off, cheeks hurting from smiling so much. North jostled up from her postition on the counter, eyes wide and almost manic. The grin on her face probably able to compete with Markus's. 

"What a turnabout! We've got a smooth operator on our hands," She whispered loudly, hand landing heavily on Markus's back. Biting her lip, she settled behind the counter. "Hello, mister! Welcome to Jericho, what can I get for you?" North drawled, her _customers-only_ smile plastered all over her face. " _Har har_ , North. Very funny." He deadpanned, a smile threatening to tug at his lips.

She frowned in mock offense. "Excuse me, mister? I've never met you here before." She squinted at him, scowling a little. "Though, you do look like this _really nasty_ guy I know." He rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you're just _really mistaken_ , miss." Before she could say anything else, he shoved Connor's mug over and pulled out a couple bills. "Please refill my cup, please." She squinted at him. He squinted back. " _Please_ , miss." 

A smile betrayed her facade and she hummed. "Kids nowadays! So rude!" She giggled, bustling over to the coffee machine. "Anything else you need, mister?" Markus set the bills on the counter, shaking his head at her antics. "Yes, a _Deluxe Loverdover-Somberbomber Waffle Combo_ , please." North raised a perfectly drawn eyebrow. "Ooh, got a date over, mister? How nice." She grinned, settling the full mug on the counter. "I'll have it over soon, mister." The smile on her face was fond, almost proud. Markus returned it. 

"Thank you, North." He took his mug and stalked back to their ( _their_!) booth. 

"So, I was wondering," He began, settling into his seat and sliding the mug over to Connor. "Could you tell me about yourself? There's only so much I want to know." He sounded soft and there was no denying that he was making faces. Connor was the same. "Well, how do I put this.." He shut his eyes, thinking. "My childhood.. was a blur. My parents died when I was very young and I was put into an orphanage, not long after."

"There was a boy, and a woman. The boy, he was a.. friend? A close friend. We stuck to each other for a while" He looked conflicted. "I remember the woman, Miss Amanda. She was a close friend of my parents and kept a close eye on me. For a while, I thought that she would've adopted me." His reflection stared back up at him from the mug. Murky brown. Just like his right eye.

"Ah, she didn't though. I woke up one day, and my friend was gone and Miss Amanda had stopped coming by." His lips were pursed, his head snapped up to look at Markus. "It all worked out in the end. A few months later, I was adopted by a good man- my dad, Hank Anderson." His eyes shone, fond. 

"The rest was, as they say, history. I studied to become a detective, got my diploma, cried here and there." He sniffed, pouting. "I certainly don't miss college." Connor smiled softly, lost in thought.

He looked over, blinked at Markus, the attention electrifying and burning hot. "Thank you for asking." Connor leaned over the table, right into Markus's personal space. "Now, it's your turn." Then he _winked_.

Blushing, he started. "Well.. My parents also died a long time ago, I barely remember them. I was taken in by Carl Manfred, my mentor, right after. I grew up surrounded by the arts, and I'm grateful." He smiled, an unsaid memory lingering in the air. "I have a brother too, Leo.. Well, I'm not sure if he considers _me_ as his brother, but I care about him." Markus sighed. 

"I'm a starving artist, basically. Art galleries and such.. I'm hoping to have my own show soon." He supplied, fingers dragging across the lacqrue. "That's fascinating. Perhaps I'd be able to go to a show, one day." Connor smirked. Markus looked up at him through brown lashes, sly. "Yes, perhaps."

"Hello, boys!" Came a bustling North, a yellow tray in hand. She skipped towards the booth, settling the plates down with a flourish. "Voilà! The _Loverdover-Somberbomber_ for two beautiful boys." She curtsied, before jogging off towards a new batch of customers. Markus sighed.

The waffles were shaped like a heart, maple syrup lovingly rendered into an arrow through the 'heart', with whipped cream in tiny flower-like dollops framed the plate. Connor frowned, looking sullen.

"It's a shame that we're going to have to ruin this.." Markus looked up at him, pondering. "You could take a picture. Remember the occasion." Connor brightened up, as if the thought just occurred to him. "Right!" He brought out his phone, and started snapping away. His phone case was littered with cartoon dogs of varying breeds, adorable. 

Markus rested his face on the palm of his head, leaning slightly.

(Sometimes, Markus liked to think about the legend of Icarus. His blind love, pure determination. The sun, Apollo himself, dangerous and mighty as they might be- was beautiful. But, Icarus was a fool. A fool with too much ambition. It was strangely familiar. Icarus, too little to give and too much to lose.)

Connor thanked him, smiling like _that_ and Markus sudenly understood why Icarus chose to soar.

* * *

"You're looking cheery." 

Connor stepped through the doors of the DPD, only to be greeted by a bored Hank, waiting for him. He hummed. "It's nothing, Hank." They walked side by side through the halls of the DPD. 

He scoffed. "Bullshit. How'd the date go?" They passed by Chris, who gave them a wave. Connor spluttered. "Now? Gavin might hear.." The older man rolled his eyes, hesitant to drop the subject. 

" _Fine_ ," He caved. (He always gave in when it came to Connor.) "But, we _will_ talk about this at home, kid." Connor pouted but said nothing else.

They reached their conjoined desks, a distressed looking Gavin Reed waiting for them there, tapping his foot impatiently. "Finally! I was _waiting_." He spat out, squinting at Connor before whipping towards Hank. 

"Did you fucking _hear_? Some hotshot's transferring to our district." He whispered conspiratorially, as if they were three teenage girls gossiping about Jake from bandcamp. Connor raised an eyebrow. Hank crossed his arms, leaning back. 

"I didn't know that we were all buddy-buddy now, Reed." He hummed. Gavin jerked back, as if shocked. "Shut it, Anderson. I'm just pissed and using you as an outlet." He pulled at his hair, and Connor wondered idly if he was going to yank the strands out.

"A ' _hotshot_ '? What do you mean by that, Detective Reed?" Connor spoke up. Rude as Gavin was, he's still his colleague. The mousy-haired man turned towards Connor, scowling. "Well, some kid from far off. Studied in Germany, I think. I don't know." He paused, scowl somehow deepening further. "But, I don't like it."

"Why are you so mad about this?" The younger spoke, Hank grunting in agreement. "I-! Well- Uh," Gavin eloquently blustered. "This _fuckwad_ was fucking assigned to me as a partner, that's why! How many times have I told Jefferson? I don't need no damn partner!" His yells eventually turned into angry murmers as Gavin paced around their desks. The father-son duo hung around awkwardly.

"Well," Hank began. "You can practice on your social skills, at least." He squirmed, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else but here. Gavin continued to mutter to himself, green and blue eyes glinting violently. 

Connor was still curious. "Detective Reed, do you have any information about this transfer?" The man in questioned groaned, looking dangerously on edge. "If you're so goddamn curious, there's a file on my desk-which, by the way, won't be just  _my desk anymore!_ " Connor nodded and scurried off, feverently apologising to the increasingly agitated Hank.

He approached Gavin's desk with purposeful steps, genuinely curious about the new transfer. A possible new friend and, hopefully, _confidant._ He hesitantly took the file, something akin to dread crawling down his neck. _Oh, well. What was the absolute worse that could happen?_ Slowly, he opened the file.

And was greeted with a carbon copy of him. Shiny, clean cut curls replaced unbrushed brown hair. Blank, icy blue and dark green eyes pierced through the page and into his suddenly fast-pumping heart. Where was supposed to be a splay of freckles and moles were replaced with clear, almost paper-like skin. Where was supposed to be a small, lopsided smile, was instead a frown that made him look almost like an android, a _robot_.

Connor's eyes darted towards two names he hasn't heard in years.

_Richard Stern._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its so good to be back <33


End file.
